


do you wanna be the animal to take me apart

by macabrekawaii



Category: Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (Video Games), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Abuse, Captivity, Head trauma, Humiliation, If you know the Silmarillion you know how this ends for Kelly, It's Not Good, M/M, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, PLEASE HEED THE TAGS, Rape, Torture, this is not a nice fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25675990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macabrekawaii/pseuds/macabrekawaii
Summary: Celebrimbor is held in captivity by his once-beloved, Sauron. In his darkest hour, what more can the Dark Lord possibly take from him?
Relationships: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Sauron | Mairon
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	do you wanna be the animal to take me apart

**Author's Note:**

> My partner has asked me for the entire duration of our relationship to please write her some Celebrimbor x Sauron torture fic and after six years, I hope I have delivered. PLEASE heed the warnings on this fic. We not venturing to a nice place, dear readers. As always, I play fast and loose with canon, blurring Silmarillion lore with game lore from Shadow of Mordor/War. If you're familiar with Celebrimbor's canonical fate well, you already know where this is headed. 
> 
> This one's for you, meleth nin. Happy six year anniversary, you sick fuck, I love you <3 
> 
> Title is from "Fire and Whispers" by IAMX, which has been a big Celebrimbor/Sauron vibe for years

Celebrimbor shivers, the cold stone floor beneath his nude body feels like ice, and with his hands and legs shackled behind him he could not even hug himself for warmth. He did not know how many days and nights he had been kept in the dreary chamber. He had been supplied no food, no water, no light. Kept in darkness, with only the scrabble of rodents for company. Celebrimbor sighed, peering around the dim room. Suddenly there is a clanking noise, metal scraping on metal. A thin line of golden light appears in the darkness, casting a sickly shadow onto the wall as a figure entered the room.

“Such a sight you are, my love.” 

“Don’t--- don’t call me that.” Celebrimbor still faces the wall, with Sauron behind him. He feels a slight relief at that mercy, not wanting his captor to see the despair in his face.

“And why should I not, Celebrimbor? Are you not my love? Were you not sworn to me, for all time? Did we not bind ourselves by our rings?” Sauron circles him then crouches by his head. He reaches out and strokes matted, inky hair off Celebrimbor’s forehead. Sauron’s hands are cold, his nails long, like talons.

“Do not. Touch me.”

Sauron chuckles. “You are in no position to order me, Celebrimbor.” He rises and paces around the room. “Are you enjoying your confines? Does the room please you? Are you comfortable?” He hisses the last word, twisting it into a mocking laugh. 

Celebrimbor writhes, trying to turn away from Sauron, but his shackles are heavy, and all he manages to do is flip onto his back, gasping from the effort. It had been a long time since he was allowed food or rest. 

Sauron steps forward, placing the weight of his heel against Celebrimbor’s groin. 

“Will you behave for me today, Bright One?” Sauron grinds his heel down, pressing hard into the sensitive flesh. “Or do I need to teach you another lesson in manners?”

Celebrimbor winces and pants hard, trying not to move. Sauron circles his heel and the crackle of pain releases into something that could almost, almost, be described as pleasure. It was so much worse this way. 

“I want want you owe me , Celebrimbor.”

“And what is that? What do I owe you, the great Sauron, any longer?”

Sauron steps forward and grips Celebrimbor’s face in one hand. His talon-like nails dig into the flesh of his cheeks, stinging as they lightly pierce his skin. Sauron looks down at his captive with dark eyes, dull like the embers of a fire, ready to flare at any time. 

“You think me a fool? I know you forged rings in Eregion.” He releases Celebrimbor’s face but does not withdraw, crouching low. His hand shoots to grab Celebrimbor by the throat. “Tell me where they are and I will let you go.”

“You will never let me go, not that I would tell you anyway.” Celebrimbor tries to speak with defiance, but he is tired, bone tired, and tired in away he cannot explain. 

“Where are the three miserable rings you made for your brethren?” Sauron’s hand around Celebrimbor’s throat did not release. Even if he had wanted to answer, Celebrimbor can hardly find the air to breathe let alone reply. “Where are they!? What churls did you give your arts to?” 

“Ones more deserving than you, fallen one.” He croaks out. 

Sauron lets go of his throat and slaps him, hard, cracking his rings against his jaw with the impact. The blow knocks the wind out of Celebrimbor and he sucks in a ragged breath, head spinning. 

“Such a cruel mouth you have, beloved.” Sauron rakes his nails across Celebrimbor’s cheek, hot and stinging from the impact. “Perhaps I can put it to better use than idle chatter.”

No. Not like this. Celebrimbor hisses at Sauron through his teeth.

“Now now, pet, you can behave. I’ve seen it.” Sauron presses his heel into Celebrimbor’s groin once more, this time dragging it from the base of his cock up his soft length. In spite of his best efforts, all his strength of will, Celebrimbor feels himself filling, responding to the touch.

Sauron grips Celebrimbor by the hair, tangling his many-ringed fingers into the inky strands. He pulls hard, snapping Celebrimbor’s head back. With his other hand, Sauron pulls loose his flowing, luxurious robes. He takes his thick length in hand drawing it from his breeches. The cock of the Dark Lord is thick and full, blushing a deep red at the tip. Celebrimbor swallows at the sight of it. What once brought him his greatest pleasures now only served to further his basest humiliation.

Sauron cants his hips and drags the thick head of his cock across Celebrimbor’s lips, painting him with precome. 

“You cannot know what the sight of you does to me,” Sauron’s voice is even and cool, “to see you so debased, on your knees like nothing but chattel.”  
Celebrimbor does not reply, keeps his mouth shut in a firm scowl.

“You are still beautiful, you know.” Sauron once more caresses Celebrimbor’s cheek, but there is an edge of tenderness in the gesture that sends a chill down the captive’s spine. “Open for me, as once you did willingly.” Sauron speaks and Celebrimbor answers—he relaxes his jaw, lets Sauron force his cock into his dry mouth. Saliva flows at the intrusive member, the heavy weight on his tongue. Celebrimbor feels dizzy already, worn so thin in his captivity. Celebrimbor struggles to bring cracked lips to close around the girth of Sauron’s cock. This cannot be pleasant for his captor. Celebrimbor feels entirely parched and can feel the almost scrape of Sauron’s length across his sandpaper tongue. The Dark Lord seems unmoved and, if anything, enjoying how far gone Celebrimbor truly is. 

“You are mine Celebrimbor, for all time, it would behoove you not to forget that.” Sauron redoubles his efforts, slamming his hard length down Celebrimbor’s throat. Celebrimbor struggles not to gag, feels the bile rise. Tears stream down his face and there is nothing he can do to stop them, nothing he can do to cease the onslaught of Sauron’s cock roughly pushing in and out past his dry, cracked lips. The friction causes his bottom lip to split and suddenly his mouth floods with an acrid copper, he knows he is bleeding and, repulsed, realizes it is slicking the way for Sauron’s length to breech his abused mouth. Celebrimbor screws his eyes closed. Sauron with draws from his mouth with a wet pop. Panting and shaking, Celebrimbor looks up, sees Sauron’s dick glistening red. It stands proud, glistening, still inches from his face. 

“I have other delights in store for you my pet. We are not too soon to be done with this pleasure.” Sauron hauls Celebrimbor to his knees, then pushes him forward, falling onto his hands. He drags him by his hair towards the wall, so that his face is pressed flush against the cold stone. Sauron grips his hair and pushes his face against the rough wall. He kicks at Celebrimbor’s knees, widening his legs. Celebrimbor feels prone, exposed. 

With no fanfare, Sauron presses his blood and saliva slick length into Celebrimbor. The captive screams briefly, before trying to steady himself, to remain silent. He would not give Sauron the satisfaction of his pain. 

The Dark Lord begins to fuck him in earnest, snapping his hips, rocking forward with every thrust. Celebrimbor cries out as his face is smacked against the stone wall; his body crowded in by Sauron’s impossible strength. Sauron’s pace is relentless, and the room fills with the harsh sound of skin slapping against skin and the dull thud of Celebrimbor’s head hitting the wall. 

Dazed and weak, Celebrimbor, lets himself be used. He feels himself growing limp and ever more tired. 

Celebrimbor feels like he is about to be hewn in two. Sauron’s length fills him up and with every thrust he is forced hard against the dirty stone wall. His chains clatter around him as he his jostled, his face hits the stone wall over and over. Sauron’s grip on his hips deepens further, his nails breaking skin. The stinging keeps Celebrimbor focused, keeps him from registering the pounding into his body. He tries to float on the pain, tries to go somewhere else, but then Sauron has a fist in his hair, is yanking his head back with every thrust, truly smashing his head against the stone. Celebrimbor reels, dizzy and blinded by searing pain. 

Without warning Sauron withdraws, snarling. He grabs Celebrimbor’s shoulder and flips him onto his back. A heavy-booted foot comes crashing down on Celebrimbor’s chest. He gurgles and panics, feels like the weight of a full tree is sinking down on him. His bones creak with the effort, fissures surely forming in the delicate structures. He looks up through eyelids heavy with pain.  
Sauron towers above him, one hand around his thick member. He is stroking himself slowly, his nails glinting in the dim light. Celebrimbor tries to suck in a breath but fits that it hurts, that the air burns in his chest. He feels like something is wet, something gurgling, and his second attempt rattles in his lungs. 

“So beautiful, my love. So broken, broken so easily.” Sauron quickens his pace, stroking his cock, veiny and taught in his hands. He comes without a sound but with a wide, wolfish grin, teeth glimmering in the darkness. His come paints stripes across Celebrimbor’s bleeding face, and the heat of it stings in his wounds. Before turning away, Sauron gives one last hard kick to Celebrimbor’s side, the sharp metal toe of his boot slicing away at Celebrimbor. 

He gasps a ragged breath, turning away from Sauron, lets his body crumple to the floor of his cell. 

“I have brought you something, my love. Let it not be said that the Dark Lord is not generous. Let it not be said that the Dark Lord is not kind, nor without mercy.” Sauron retrieves something from within the folds of his elegant, blood-red robes. It is difficult to see in the dim light, but it looks long and metallic. 

Celebrimbor looks up at Sauron, his eyes clear, his face impassive. 

“Have you nothing to say, mellon nin?” Sauron steps closer, and Celebrimbor’s eyes widen in horror at the realization of what Sauron holds in his deadly hands. It is a hammer – his hammer – used to forge the many wonders they once created together. It gleams, uncorrupted yet. 

“This is your mercy?” Celebrimbor can hardly speak, his throat rasps dry and abused. His body aches, every labored breath feels wet with blood. He is no doubt bleeding somewhere, internally, his shattered self barely clinging to consciousness. 

“I could leave you here, forever. I could leave you here in this twilight half-life until whatever feeble life it is that Elves cling to everlong fades like the light shall in all of Middle-Earth.”

“Then be done with me, Annatar. But do not call it a mercy.”

Cold light glints of the edge of his hammer, clutched in Sauron’s devious hand. It shines like moonlight on a smooth placid lake, a silver reflection of something beautiful. 

It is the last thing Celebrimbor sees, as the hammer connects with the side of his head.

**Author's Note:**

> STOP  
> Hammertime


End file.
